


Repercussions

by xenobia4



Category: Numb3rs (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Depression, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Murder, Mutilation, Regret, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenobia4/pseuds/xenobia4
Summary: Don lashes out at Charlie when one of his calculations is wrong. Things take a turn for the worse when Lt. Walker tells Don they found Charlie.
Relationships: Charlie Eppes & Don Eppes, Charlie Eppes/Don Eppes
Comments: 16
Kudos: 18





	Repercussions

“I’m sorry about earlier. Even utilising the theorem, there are still variables that have to be taken into account.”

Don Eppes cut his younger brother, Charlie, off with a shake of the head. He took several drinks from the lukewarm coffee that accompanied his bagel at a local bistro a few miles from headquarters. Charlie had not ordered much either, merely an egg sandwich, too focused on their early morning endeavours.

“Yeah, well, your apology doesn’t help the situation.” Don found himself regretting the words as they left his lips, but refused to take them back, even given his brother’s dejected reaction. He knew Charlie was not at fault for that morning’s endeavours, even if his aggravation at the situation caused him to lash out at the nearest vulnerable person.

Seeing Charlie’s expression fall, he took another long drink.

“I can analyse the change in pattern and work in the metrics, therefore culminating their probable future movement and probable location. I just need more time to work in the probabilities and ensure that—”

“Screw your probabilities!” Don found himself giving into the mounting emotion he had been experiencing. “You got one of my agents hurt! _Your_ calculations caused David to get shot, and now he’s in the goddamn ICU!”

The recollection of several bullets ripping through David’s Kevlar swarmed through his memory. They knew the unidentified subjects utilised Black Talon bullets specifically to target law enforcement, but even expecting an inevitable encounter did not prepare the agents for the shear number and force that would be used against them. Charlie had theorised the subjects’ position after prior crime scenes denoted how many their were. However, when the FBI came prepared for three to five suspects, the tables quickly turned when even those that were seen as harmless bystanders were involved and turned their weapons on the officers.

Police had become targets in Los Angeles, even leading to various first responders being hurt – including fire fighters and emergency medical service personnel. What had been deemed as several isolated incidents in the beginning proved to be false and ultimately called terrorist activity due to the mounting victims.

When David had nearly become part of the statistic, Don’s supervisors turned to him, demanding to know why he was taking the advice of a mathematician that was his own flesh and blood, claiming nepotism. Don had tried to refute, even citing the successful cases they had because Charlie had been a consultant. But it was a moot point. They were adamant about the two of them being brothers as the reason why Don’s own agent was hurt – had he not have had his own brother working for him, he would have second guessed Charlie’s stance.

Perhaps it was because it was David out of everyone who got hurt why Don found himself second-guessing Charlie’s algorithms, something he had not done since Charlie had first consulted with them many years prior.

He knew better.

“Don, I’m sorry. And – and I want to tell David I’m sorry. It’s my fault this happened – I should have factored in the probability there would be more suspects. I’m sorry, Don. I—”

“I don’t need your apology, all right?!” he snapped, causing Charlie to fold in on himself. “David doesn’t need your apology! No one needs your goddamn apology! I shouldn’t have brought you on for this. Anyone else, I would have questioned, but no. I went by what you said and because of that, everything went to hell!” All of the anger and frustration was coming to a head and he found himself losing any amount of composure he had held onto. He pushed back his chair and stood up, needing to leave to keep from verbally assaulting his little brother. “I gotta get back. Catch the bus back to the school, all right?”

He turned on his heel and left, leaving Charlie in a state of confusion and dejection. He had to escape, knowing his anger towards Charlie was unjust. He would talk to him tomorrow, when everything had a chance to calm down and David was out of surgery.

* * *

The lamp on Don’s desk flickered as the building rumbled and the heat kicked on. The light of the computer screen reflected in his pupils as he filtered through the possible suspects involved in the shootings. Every report that had been written on those they believed were involved, the NCIC checks, his brain was drifting and he rubbed his eyes. He stood up from his desk to head to the break room, in desperate need of caffeine.

Colby and Megan were going through the boxes of evidence the local precincts had given them, the circles under their eyes apparent as the clock reached twenty-two hundred. They barely acknowledged their boss with a nod as he walked by them. He had tried sending them home earlier, but with David in hospital, they all wanted retribution. Fortunately, David would recover. The bullet that exploded in his abdomen did not hit any organs or major arteries. There was minor internal bleeding, but the surgeon was able to remove all shrapnel.

David would make a full recovery and was even telling them to send him some files so he could help on the case while bed ridden. The response he received was Colby punching him in the shoulder and Megan bringing him a large hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.

A grateful breath left Don’s lips at the fresh pot of coffee sitting on the counter in the break room with only a cup missing. He found himself thanking Megan for her caffeine addiction as he grabbed an old mug and poured himself a cup. After mixing in a teaspoon of sugar and taking a sip, he released a sigh. He could hear Charlie’s voice in his head talking about how coffee only kept the same level of wakefulness or fatigue when consumed. Placebo or not, Don felt the caffeine hit his system and wake him up. Though he was tired, even if it kept him at the same level, at least he could stay awake long enough to go over a few more files.

When he turned to leave the break room to head back to his office, he saw Lieutenant Gary Walker come through the doorway.

The confusion was immediate.

“Lt. Walker,” Don acknowledged as he took a sip from the mug. “Little late, isn’t it?”

The Los Angeles Police Department lieutenant held his cap under his arm, his expression solemn as he met Don’s eyes. “Agent Eppes.”

Don held the mug to his side, already knowing why Lt. Walker was in his presence. “We’re close to catching these guys. With today’s attack, they left more forensic evidence behind that we’re already on.”

Walker nodded, but his expression did not change.

“I appreciate what you all have done. I’ve no doubt whoever is behind these attacks will be brought to justice. But Agent Eppes, there’s something I’ve come to talk to you about.” His inflection was sincere, but foreboding. Nearly losing David, Don could only image what Walker was going through having lost several of his own LAPD officers – those he worked with closely on a daily basis. “It’s about your brother.”

Don found himself snorting into his coffee, imagining what his younger brother could have found himself caught up in. Walker had initially been sceptical of Charlie’s works, but after their first mutual case involving gang shootings, Walker had been more accepting of Charlie’s mathematics than most agencies they had worked with.

“Lieutenant, I appreciate you coming to me, but if one of Charlie’s calculations was wrong, I don’t have control over that.” He smiled in jest as he took another sip. However, seeing Walker’s contained expression, Don found his own cockiness failing.

“Don”—Don’s expression dropped the moment Walker called him by name—“we found Charlie.”

There was a moment of shock before the smile returned to Don’s face as he took another drink from the mug. “What? Like you found him wandering downtown trying to confirm one of his statistics?”

His expression fell as Walker’s eyebrows furrowed upwards.

“Charlie was found by a dumpster behind a deli on Third Street this evening.”

A deli on Third Street.

It was the same deli he and Charlie had gotten lunch that afternoon. The inference was setting in, but Don still found himself fighting.

“Found by a dumpster? What does that mean?”

He braced himself, but nothing could prepare him for:

“Don,” Walker started, his voice low as they made eye contact. “Charlie’s throat was sliced open. We were called when one of the server’s found him after close.”

Don felt his eyes begin to burn as his chest tightened. Ice ran through his veins and the mug he had been holding fell to the floor, the coffee spilling onto the tile. His eyes searched Walker’s for deception; but when he found none, he felt his heart fall to his bowels. His eyes dropped and he began searching around in front of him. His jaw tightened and his nasal cavities swelled.

“Where is he now?” he got out, his voice breaking.

Walker’s expression was sympathetic. “He’s been taken to the coroner’s officer for an autopsy.”

Don’s heart stopped, his breath became numb.

Charlie. Autopsy.

Charlie’s autopsy.

“I want to see him,” was the only thing Don could get out as his eyes reddened.

Walker shook his head. “You don’t want to remember him like that, Don. Believe me.”

“I don’t give a fuck want you want! Just take me to him!” his composure fell.

They had to have it wrong. It could not have been Charlie they found, merely someone who looked like him. He had to see him and prove it was not Charlie. It was not his little brother. His little brother was fine. He had gone back to the school and was now at home, either sleeping or working on whatever calculations to prove his theory.

Charlie was okay.

Charlie was safe.

Charlie was home.

* * *

The coroner’s office was cold, the air conditioning blasting despite the near-freezing weather outside. The winter had been unusually cold, which had been perfect for preserving the recent crime scenes. But being escorted down the hall of the coroner’s office was the first time Don had truly felt the cold of the season. The technician escorting the FBI agent was young, clearly fresh out of college as their awkwardness radiated off them. When they came upon the door that supposedly held Charlie, the weather outside seemed to have made its way inside.

When the door opened and Don took the first step inside, he felt his spirit leave him.

His little brother was laid out on a metal slab.

A modesty sheet had been placed over his lower body, his skin pale with blue lips and extremities. The skin on his neck had separated, exposing muscle and tendons from where a weapon had made a clean slice. There was apparent bruising on his arms, chest and shoulders. Several cuts were on his hands and arms. Yet, it was his eyes that Don could not look away from and he unconsciously found himself touching his brother’s face. Charlie’s skin was cold and tight, his eyes glassy and pupils dilated as they stared ever forward.

“We found traces of skin and blood underneath his nails. We’re confident it’s not his own and we sent it off to be tested,” the technician’s voice cut in, though it sounded hollow and distant. “The cuts on his hands and arms coincide with the bruising are obvious defensive wounds. He put up a fight.”

Either way, Don found himself nodding. “Uh, did he…did he suffer long?” his voice cracked at the question as he focused on his brother’s exposed throat.

“Going by the depth of the wound and how clean it is, he bled out in seconds. Ten to fifteen at most.”

Don’s eyes began to burn as the tears came to the surface. He turned to look at the coroner’s tech. “Could you just—”

“Oh, of course. Take all the time you need.” With that, they left the room, leaving Don alone.

A line of liquid fell down his cheek as he reached to hold Charlie’s hand. His hand and fingers were stiff from the onset of rigor mortis, Don could see the traces of dirt and blood underneath his brother’s nails, the opened cuts on his hands from where he had tried to defend himself. Don released his hand and began running his fingers through Charlie’s hair as his forehead creased, the tears becoming apparent.

His little brother should have been at home, sleeping. Instead, he was lying cold and lifeless on a metal table with the last memories being of Don blaming him for David getting shot before fighting for his life in an alley behind a restaurant. Don should not have left him there, he should have given Charlie a ride back to the CalSci, even if they would have gotten into a screaming match in the car. At least if he had done that, his brother would still be alive and Don could have apologised that night for saying things he knew were out of line.

“I’m so sorry, Charlie,” his voice shook as he bent over his brother’s body, holding his baby brother in his arms. “Fuck, I’m sorry! Please don’t be gone, please please please don’t leave me.” He held Charlie’s face as he did a sharp inhale. “I’m gonna find out who did this, Charlie. I’m gonna find them, I promise. I fucking promise you, I’ll find them.” He kissed his brother’s forehead. “I love you so much, Charlie, so much. I’m gonna find them, buddy.”

With his jaw taut and his remorse bleeding into anger, he left the room, the metal door slamming behind him.

* * *

Don stood outside his old house, the keys in his hand.

The light in the living room was still on, proving that their dad was still awake, probably waiting for Charlie to get home. Ever since Charlie had started as a consultant for the FBI, Alan would always stay up, just to ensure that his youngest son was safe. It was something Don was always aware of whenever he would give Charlie a ride home, but something he was certain his little brother was blissfully unaware of. It was also something Don was always grateful for; and ite made him remember whenever he would stay out late while still living at home and he would come back to find his mom and dad waiting for him.

When he was younger, he thought it was their way of keeping tabs on him. Only after he got older did he realise they did it because they wanted to make sure he made it home.

But for the first time, one of them was not all right and would never come back home.

With his hand on the handle, he braced himself for the news he never thought was feasible.

“Charlie, that you?” Alan’s voice called out as Don walked through the front door. When Don walked into the living room, Alan turned to look at him. “Oh, Don! Surprised you’re here at this hour. Where’s your brother? I’ve got dinner in the fridge if you two are hungry.”

Don said nothing, his chest tight and heart beating viciously in his chest. How could he tell his own father that his youngest son was never coming back because his older son got him involved in something he should never have been part of? Charlie was gone because the older brother who was supposed to keep him safe failed and left him vulnerable.

He sat down in the chair near the window, his expression blank.

“I’ll go heat it up. Tell your brother to hurry up,” Alan said as he got up from the couch.

Before he could leave the living room, Don finally gathered the courage to speak.

“Dad,” he started, his tone causing Alan to stop short. “Charlie’s not…coming home.” With his head still down, he looked up at his father, his eyes red and swollen. Alan’s expression fell as he met his oldest son’s gaze. “I’m sorry, dad,” Don’s voice was small and quiet as the tears that had previously stopped came back.

Alan’s eyebrows furrowed together as the reality of what Don was saying began to set in.

The colour drained from his face as he asked, “Donnie, what happened to Charlie?”

He could see Charlie’s body vividly in his mind, with his once excited and innocent eyes now empty. His usual expressional face blank and numb. Their dad did not need to know those details, how one of his sons would never speak again.

“LAPD found him by a dumpster earlier tonight. They think it involves the attacks on first responders.” He found himself using his own deductions as the only reason why Charlie would have been a target of such a violent assault.

The reaction in his father was visceral. Alan had begun to pace, his breath had hastened as his body began to shake.

“What? They think this happened because of his involvement in your case?” Don said nothing, only met his father’s eyes again, the water lining his face the only answer he could give. “He wasn’t one of your agents, Don! He should have been at the school grading papers and – and working on his next class! And now you’re telling me he’s – he’s—” Alan fell onto the couch, his face in his hands as he shook, releasing a muted sob. “Not my baby boy. Maggie, please help me,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

The two of them sat in the living room, Alan’s sobs echoing in the living room as Don could only sit in numb silence in the armchair. Only in his worst nightmares did Don ever expect his baby brother to be hurt due to Don involving him in a case. Any time there was even a possible threat that Charlie could be a target, Don would either withhold information from him or not tell him at all. Even though Charlie was stubborn and would involve himself, anyway.

Fortunately, however, the following days brought news Charlie’s murderer. They were able to gain DNA evidence from underneath Charlie’s fingernails and were able to find his killer. Ultimately, the man responsible for his brother’s death was part of the terrorists responsible for the attacks on police and various first responders. Even though they were able to bring down an entire terrorist organisation due to Charlie gaining DNA, his absence was a constant reminder.

Don contemplated leaving the FBI, the bullpen now feeling hollow without his brother’s occasional presence. Even though he was told multiple times it was not true, he still found himself responsible for his little brother’s death. Had he have not asked for Charlie’s help, Charlie never would have been involved and would have never become a target. Never before had silence ever felt so loud.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this synopsis sitting on my computer for years. Well, depression and divorce has me revisiting old works and wanting to flesh them out. 
> 
> Don experiencing Charlie's death in this was something I have first-hand experience with. I lost my older brother to suicide in 2015. He was an army veteran and was only 28. I was (and still am) an officer and, when I got off work, I got a text from my mom saying my brother was found unresponsive. I was the first one at hospital and seeing my brother completely brain dead on a bed is something I'll never forget. 
> 
> The emotions are something I'd never wish on anyone. Feeling my brother's heartbeat fade as he was taken off of support? Knowing he was gone because I had knowledge of what human bodies go through as they die, while everyone around me remained hopeful? 
> 
> That being said, I decided to actually flesh this out for people who have had to experience losing a loved one. Especially when you have inside knowledge about how things happen - like firefighters, nurses, doctors, police, EMS. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm done talking. I hope those of you who read this enjoyed and I'd appreciate kudos and comments!  
> If you have your own experiences, feel free to share if you'd like. I'd like to think this one fic as a safe haven to rant and vent your own personal experiences.


End file.
